


A real scream

by israfel00



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Artistic Sensibilities, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jonsa Smut Week, Sansa needs to get off, Sex Toys, Sneaky Jon Snow, Video Cameras, Voyeurism, actual artistic sensibilities, and Jon is the one who's going to help her with that, and useless at fucking, because Joffrey and Harry are fucking useless, no really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/israfel00/pseuds/israfel00
Summary: Sansa reads a book on camera. Jon's under the table.





	A real scream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Janina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/gifts), [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts), [Jiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiya/gifts).



> This could not have been done without Janina, who kept me on task, gave all kinds of amazing advice and practically polished this thing from its original rough draft by herself. You're one in a million and one of my absolute favourite authors.
> 
> It's also a tribute to Amy who is at the core of Jonsa - smut and/or otherwise (otherwise? WHAT otherwise??). We are very very lucky to have her in this fandom.
> 
> And to Jiya, who made an off the cuff remark which led me to reshape large parts of this thing. I don't think you realise just how awesome you are.
> 
> =====
> 
> As much as I want to say I thought this one up all on my own, it's an homage to an art project which is spectacular and...uh...most definitely NSFW. Check out http://hystericalliterature.com/
> 
> Prompt: Day 6: Something New and Anyone Could See.

  


**Sansa**

  


"Come on, San darling! You'd be absolutely perfect for it! It's the hottest indie project since _Westerosi White Walker Wall Watchers_ \- and that was twenty years ago!"

"Margie you did _not_ just recommend I try out for a softcore film!"

Marg snorted, a sound completely at odds with her exquisitely put-together look which had taken hours and hours to look like it had taken mere minutes. The familiar surrounds of their favourite dive bar from university echoed with that most unladylike sound but no one paid them a second glance.

"Softcore? Sansa, darling, if you want to do that then you know you just have to breathe in Petyr's direction and you'll be the next Mockingbird Girl, don't you?"

They both shuddered.

"Anyway, it's not softcore. Nor is it hardcore. Nor any other kind of core. It's an art project. A real art project by the most respected photographer in a generation! Remember how we swore that one day we'd work with the Dornish Viper?"

"I meant something like _Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken_! Not some kind of _Lys Girls Gone Wild_ thing!"

"Oh sweetie, you're so adorable when you get flustered. _Lys Girls Gone Wild_ is something that your handsome shadow would watch. It's definitely tame by today's standards anyway"

Sansa flushed. "What do you mean? Jon wouldn't watch that filth!"

Margaery smirked. "I didn't say Jon."

Sansa sucked in a breath and hastily found something amazingly interesting on the scratched and sticky floor to gaze at.

"Darling, it's not like it's a secret. Well, perhaps to you and Robb and Arya...ok, perhaps it's not a secret to anyone except your family. That boy is smitten, Sansa Minisa Stark, and he wants into those Sansypants."

Sansa cleared her throat and decided to pretend the last 30 seconds hadn't happened. "So you mentioned that it's not porn?"

Marg rolled her eyes. "Smooth segue. But yes, sweetie, _Hysterical Literature_ is not porn. It's merely a video of you sitting at a table, reading a book to the camera. For as long as you can."

Sansa leaned in, dropping her voice. "You're forgetting the part when _some woman_ is underneath this table and she's _using a vibrator on me_ ".

Marg smiled. "Well I never said it was boring. And she's very good at what she does, if that's what's worrying you. Honestly I don't think I've ever come so hard. I won't be able to look at _Thoughts of a Caged Bird_ in quite the same way ever again."

" _Marg!_ ", Sansa hissed. She flicked her eyes around the bar to see if anyone had heard. No one seemed interested, thankfully.

"Come on, Sansa. You can model all you like but something like this comes up once in a lifetime! This series that Oberyn is doing is the Next Big Thing!"

"And that's another thing, Margie. What kind of a name is _Hysterical Literature _anyway?"__

The other woman quirked an eyebrow. “I think it's rather a clever name. Harks back to that rubbish about hysteria and the vibrator as a medical treatment. Typical of that nonsense medicine they practiced back then. Besides, its a classier title than _Lys Girls Gone Wild_ in any case."

Sansa chewed her lip. She really did want to make her mark in this industry, where models were a penny a dozen and the relentless grind made her question this choice more and more. And she had just broken up with Harry the Arse and needed to reinvent herself.

_Plus,_ she added mentally, _it would be nice to actually have an orgasm that wasn't self-induced. Maybe Harry will watch this video and realise just what he missed...or how limited he was - if he's even that self-aware._

"OK, Marg. You've convinced me. I'll do it."

Her friend squealed and hugged her, knocking her glass to the table in her enthusiasm. "Oh darling! You won't regret it. I'll introduce you to Oberyn and you can take it from there."

Sansa tried to focus on the fact that she would be working with _the Dornish Viper_ and breaking new visual ground, finally announcing that Sansa Stark had arrived.

She tried so hard she could almost ignore the fact that her cheeks were still bright pink.

*******

This was, without a doubt, the _weirdest_ thing she'd ever done.

In fact she'd nearly chickened out after Marg had emailed her and Oberyn and suggested they would be a good fit for this project. Porn had never appealed to her (despite the increasingly desperate offers from Mockingbird Pictures every few months) and it wasn't something she wanted to have following her around for the rest of her career.

Not to mention she wouldn't be able to look her family in the eye ever again.

But within minutes of Oberyn calling her, she had realised that Marg was right. This was a chance that came once in a lifetime and would be a defining moment in her career. The project was such a powerful expression of the artistic force she aspired to channel, the director the most respected and talented maverick in the entire art world.

She would be a fool to turn it down.

That didn't make it any less weird though.

  


**Oberyn**

  


He always liked that first moment when the camera started rolling, with the visual field so harshly constricted to the woman and the book. Unlike the first episode which had used a white table, Oberyn had chosen to go with a black matte surface that blended seamlessly into the backdrop. The slightly eerie effect of the book appearing to hover in space, with the arms of the subject apparently floating alongside it, jarred the observer just slightly enough to clear the mind of any distractions.

For this session he had embraced the idea of no distractions to the point of not even being in the room - the camera had been set rolling a few minutes prior and he was now in the editing suite next door watching both the colour and black-and-white feeds. Whilst all his previous subjects had been fine with him remaining in the room despite the nature of these sessions...or perhaps _because_ of it...he had noticed in his typically obsessive fashion that occasionally they would glance up at him over the hood of the camera. This breaking of the fourth wall had annoyed him more and more with each session, to the point where last session he had nearly snapped and lost his temper. And the subject for that installment had been perfect otherwise - and was also someone he really didn't need to antagonise, given her connections and reach.

This one, though, this one was special. Her hair hung loosely braided over one shoulder, reaching down almost to the table. Its vivid colour was almost enough to make him reconsider the black-and-white format - the contrast with her eyes was so marked that it was almost a crime to wash them out...but no. No, the reasons he had for choosing this approach were just as valid now as when he had made them.

Her pale fingers, slim and dextrous reached for the book as she opened her mouth.

"Hi, I'm Sansa and I'll be reading several works from _Lore of The Seven Kingdoms_ by Osha and Bronn."

No one could tell by looking at her that she was nervous, or about to embark on a most unusual book reading.

There was always a pause, a gathering of breath at the start. A last moment before the climb and fall.

She opened the book, fingers leafing through the pages and stopped at an obviously well-worn chapter.

_"Gentle Mother, font of mercy_  
_save our sons from war, we pray,_  
_stay the swords and stay the arrows_  
_let them know a better day._  
_Gentle Mother, strength of women_  
_help our daughters through this fray,_  
_soothe the wrath and tame the fury_  
_teach us all a kinder way."_  


She was the epitome of a sophisticated, collected woman thanks to the elegant dress, minimal makeup and excellent posture. Her cool contralto and precise phrasing were painting the words into vivid imagery that he was sure would be clear to all who watched.

He only wished Ellaria had been here for this one. His paramour-cum-assistant had been with him for all his previous sessions and had always accomplished her task with skill and panache. And, he thought to himself wryly, she had enjoyed every minute of it. Sometimes it would be easier, he thought, if they really _were_ making the kind of cheap and tawdry "art films" that sat in the soft core aisles. And certainly he and Ellaria had been tempted with their subjects, but the thought of compromising their art kept both of them on the straight and narrow.

But his lover was out with a severe head cold and as much as she would have sworn she could do her part, the uncontrolled sneezing would have ruined the experience for their subject (and also been picked up by the camera, destroying the scene).

_"The Father's face is stern and strong,_  
_he sits and judges right from wrong._  
_He weighs our lives, the short and long,_  
_and loves the little children."_  


_"The Mother gives the gift of life,_  
_and watches over every wife._  
_Her gentle smile ends all strife,_  
_and she loves her little children."_  


Thank the Seven that his new assistant had been open-minded enough to participate. This session had been booked weeks ago and without an assistant who was willing, skilled and empathetic enough to play their part, the entire exercise would be worse than useless. At worst it would be a sexual assault charge and his reputation completely ruined.

_"The Warrior stands before the foe,_  
_protecting us where e'er we go._  
_With sword and shield and spear and bow,_  
_he guards the little children._  


_The Crone is very wise and old,_  
_and sees our fates as they unfold._  
_She lifts her lamp of shining gold_  
_to lead the little children."_  


It had all happened so suddenly that he hadn't even had a chance to communicate to Sansa the change of personnel. Given the nature of their interaction, it might be argued that he should have done so without delay, however there was an equal argument for _not_ mentioning the new arrangement. The project was predicated on few things, but a consistent environment and experience between sessions was absolutely imperative. He had no concern about the conduct of of his assistant over the next half hour, but it was a new variable that he did not want to introduce.

_"The Smith, he labors day and night,_  
_to put the world of men to right._  
_With hammer, plow, and fire bright,_  
_he builds for little children._  


_The Maiden dances through the sky,_  
_she lives in every lover's sigh._  
_Her smiles teach the birds to fly,_  
_and gives dreams to little children."_  


Speaking of his assistant...Oberyn wondered what the holdup was. Sansa had read almost two pages without the slightest interruption or hesitation. Not only that, but he now realised that the microphone was not registering the near-inaudible hum that signalled the session was underway. He checked the audio levels of the feed and confirmed that the equipment was functioning normally.

_"The Seven Gods who made us all,_  
_are listening if we should call._  
_So close your eyes, you shall not fall,_  
_they see you, little children._  


_Just close your eyes, you shall not fall,_  
_they see you, little children."_  


Was it nerves? He supposed it was possible - this wasn't exactly what one thought about when signing up for an art photography apprenticeship, however Oberyn had hoped that the dedication to craft would overcome such foibles. Certainly the Dornish Viper had a reputation in the Westerosi art circles that he thought would at least be scandalous enough to weed out the blushing wallflowers...

Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, there was a startled half-gasp from the speaker and he glanced up to see Sansa tense slightly, her mouth parted mid-sentence as stuttered over a word. At the same time the tinny buzzing of the Hitachi made its way to his ears and he relaxed, glad that whatever hesitation had affected his compatriot was now past. Maybe it was as simple as not wanting to start whilst Sansa was reading to the Seven? Oberyn snorted at the thought.

_"The Dornishman's w-wife was as fair as the sun,_  
_And her kisses were warmer than spring._  
_But the Dornishman's blade was.....made of black steel,_  
_And its kiss was a terrible thing."_  


He smiled as he saw her start to squirm, body twitching slightly as if she didn't know whether to lean away or lean in. Her lips started to draw back in a smile, warring with the need to form the next words.

_"The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,_  
_In....a voice that was sweet as a peach,_  
_But the Dornishman's blade ...mmm... had a song of its own,_  
_And a bite sharp and c-cold as a leech."_  


Yes, it was definitely a smile breaking out on her face. Her right hand began to slide from its place on the book, fingers curling in an unconscious clench as if she was trying to concentrate her focus with that small motion. Or as if she was trying to grab the hand of head of whoever was doing this to her. Excellent.

_"A...as he lay on the ground with the darkness around,_  
_And the...haaaah....taste of his blood on his tongue,_  
_His brothers knelt....by him and p-p-prayed him a prayer,_  
_And he smiled and he laughed and he sung"_  


She was definitely smiling now, her head tilted away from the camera as she ran her tongue over her lip in an unconscious movement that spoke of her inner turmoil. The langrous rolling of her shoulders gave the lie to her affected calm, the tension slowly leaking out into all gestures large and small.

Oberyn smiled as he saw her hands entangling themselves in her hair, mindlessly pulling at the braid until her hair was released to fall freely around her shoulders. She truly was magnificent - she even made that Tyrell girl from the last session look like a daisy next to a rose. Superb.

For a moment he considered the possibilities of having them _actually_ next to each other. A duet? Or... _a duel?_ See who could hold out the longest....? That might be pushing it but it would definitely be something to talk about with Ellaria later.

_"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,"_  
_The Dornishman's taken my life,_  
_But what does it matter, for all men must die,"_  
_And I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!_  
_And I've...t-t-tasted the Dornishman's...ah!...wife!"_  


For a moment, Sansa collected herself, resolutely squared her shoulders and tossed her head as she refocused on the page. The effect was somewhat spoiled by her hair billowing sinuously around her head, floating down to rest across that creamy white expanse of her exposed shoulders, wreathing her face in flame that echoed the fire within.

There was a moment of silence as her eyes tracked down the page. She was really trying now, obviously struggling to focus on the words in front of her. Two spots of red on her cheekbones stood out as she smiled a slow, secret smile that reminded Oberyn of a cat stretching langrously, slowly, yet with tension coiling beneath the skin, waiting to be unleashed.

Then, suddenly, it all changed. He watched with interest as the sophisticated, elegant girl dropped her book and sat bolt upright, sucking in her breath and clenching her eyes shut. Her entire body vibrated with a palpable tension.

_"AH!"_

The cry ripped from her throat as she doubled over, hands slamming on to the table as she collapsed in on herself.

Oberyn raised an eyebrow. He had been settling in for a long, protracted dance of arousal battling self control, but it looked as though his accomplice had things well in hand. Every woman was different of course and it often took a fair while to determine what each one liked. Given the constraints under which they were operating he was sometimes amazed that they were able to find their completion at all. Women were very complicated, as Ellaria kept reminding him.

And yet, these sessions stripped away that veneer and showed just how uncomplicated a person could be. The rawness of the moment reduced each person, each complicated bundle of feelings, thoughts and memories down to their most basic core.

She gamefully reached for the book and turned the page. He watched as she took a deep breath and started a new verse.

_"A bear there was,_  
_A bear, A BEAR!_  
_All black and brown,_  
_And covered with hair!"_  


She practically shouted the word "bear" as she clenched one hand into a fist as the other followed the print down the page, fingers twitching.

_"Oh come they said,_  
_Oh come to the fuh...fuh...fair!_  
_The fair? said he,_  
_But I'm..mmmmmmmMMMMMMmmm.. a bear!_  
_All black and brown,_  
_And covered in hair!"_  


Her breaths were coming faster now, shallower as if she couldn't get enough air. Chest and shoulders heaving as the hand that was not touching the book shot out and clamped onto the side of the table, knuckles visibly white even in in the monochrome shot.

_"And...down the road,_  
_From here to there,_  
_From here! T-t-t-o there!_  
_Three boys, a g-mmmmmmm-goat,_  
_And a dancing bear!_  
_They daaaAAANCED A-and spun,_  
_All the way to the fair!_

She was biting her lip every other word, the words stuttering and dripping from her mouth as she gamefully tried to keep her eyes on the page. The pitch and volume of her voice rose and fell as the Hitachi made its presence felt, the slow humming now completely drowned out by her efforts to keep reading.

Oberyn smiled when he saw her jut her chin in the air, eyes flashing and take in a deep, resolute breath. She was going to actually try and keep reading, to stave off the inevitable? He may have been premature in his earlier observation. Maybe his assistant had a more difficult job to do than first thought.

_"Oh! sweet she was,_  
_And pure and fair,_  
_The maid with honey,_  
_In her hair! Her hair,_  
_The maid with honey,_  
_in her hair!"_  


_"The bear smelled the scent,_  
_On the summer air!_  
_The Bear! The Bear!_  
_All black and brown,_  
_And covered with hair!_  
_He smelled the scent,_  
_On the summer air,_  
_He sniffed and roared,_  
_And smelled it there!_  
_Honey on the summer air!"_  


_"Oh I'm a maid,_  
_And I'm pure and fair,_  
_I'll never dance,_  
_With a hairy bear,_  
_A bear! A bear!_  
_I'll never dance,_  
_With a hairy bear!"_

Oberyn was impressed. Three more verses of the song she had read with nary an interruption. If it wasn't for the sweat that was beading all over her forehead, he could almost believe that she was reading a book normally. The red flush that was creeping down her neck also gave the lie to her outwardly composed posture and tone.

_"Huh...Huh....uuh..huhhhh"_

Ahh. There it was.

_"The bear, the b-b-b-ear!_  
_Lifted her h...aaaiiiiiiiigh,_  
_into the air!_  
_The bear, the bear!_  
_I called for a knight!_  
_But you're..you're...YOU'RE... a bear!_  
_A bear! A..A...aA... bear,_  
_All black and brooooooooowwwwwwwwn,_  
_And covered in..in..hair!"_  


She bent over the table again, one hand clamping onto the table, the other one slamming palm down in down next to the book, fingers splayed wide and making small clenching motions. Her mouth fell wide open as she gasped in as much air as she could. This lasted for a few moments before she dragged her eyes open, blinking them rapidly as she scanned the page to find her place again.

_"She kicked 'n' wailed,_  
_The maid sssss...sss.so f-HAIR,_  
_But he l-l-l-licked the honey,_  
_From her...ah!...hair!_  
_Her...uh!.. hair! Her hair!_  
_He licked the hoooooooennNENENENNEYYYYY!!!,"_  


_"Uh! Huh! Uh! From her hair!_  
_Then sssssshe..AH! AH! sighed and squealed,_  
_And k-k-k-kkicked the aaaaAAIRRRR!,_  
_She sang: My bear so fair,_  
_And off ...HA!..HA!..they went,_  
_The...mmm!...bear! The bear!_  
_And the maiden faaaaaIIRRRRRRRI!!!!"_  


The book flew to the side, knocked by her hands as her arms scissored in front of her. Words left her, gasping and moaning as she clenched her teeth with a broad smile. Eyes tightly shut, she began to press against the table, lifting herself up and rocking down, all effort at composure forgotten.

This was where it really happened. The reading, the build up, the jockeying back and forth was all for this moment. Oberyn smiled as he as he watched Sansa Stark, up and coming model and aspiring actress, fall apart in front of his camera and cement herself as one of the few people willing and able to take risks in service of the art. He would watch her career and help it wherever he could.

As she subsided into the afterglow, he stood up and stretched, before moving to the connecting door. As he reached it, he heard her voice again, raw and hoarse. Nothing like the cool modulated calm of the woman at the start of the session. He turned back to look at the screen, where a dishevelled and thoroughly debauched-looking Sansa Stark had picked up the book and was holding it up to the camera.

"Hi, I'm Sansa...and that was several verses from _Lore of Westeros_ by Osha and Bronn".

  


**Sansa**

  


When the red light went on at the front of the camera, Sansa had a moment of clarity. This was really going to happen. She was really going to read a book whilst being stimulated by a vibrator. On camera. To be published _on the Internet._

She opened her mouth...and closed it again. Oberyn had already retreated to his recording booth and soundlessly slid the door closed. The time for hesitation was passed. She had committed to this - she had chosen this and the last-minute nerves weren't going to stop her now.

She took a breath, breathing deeply and filling her lungs, then slowly letting it out again. After another heartbeat, she reached to her side and picked up the book.

"Hi, I'm Sansa and I'll be reading several works from _Lore of The Seven Kingdoms_ by Osha and Bronn."

She placed the book down in front of her, acutely aware of the texture of the pages and the table underneath it. She opened it and began to read

Braced as she was, it took her a few sentences to realise that nothing was happening. She didn't know what to expect, but she'd had it in her head that it would start immediately, that she'd straightaway be besieged and thrust on the road to orgasm.

A flare of irritation flicked through her. _Remember, not everyone is Harry. Not everyone just jumps in and hammers away._

She made her way through _The Song of the Seven_ without a hint of any kind of funny business. The sense of being exposed under the thin cloth that covered the table and her lap heightened the tension, her legs spread far more wantonly than she had ever dared.

She moved smoothly into _The Dornishman's Wife_ , the familiar cadence a welcome touchstone of familiarity in this most unfamiliar situation.

_Bzzzzzz_

She sucked in a breath sharply, stammering mid-word as something slippery gently touched her inner thigh. A gently vibrating something, tracing a path from one leg to the other, weaving back and forth as it drew closer to her suddenly tense cunt.

She hadn't considered that it would be lubed. Though it made perfect sense, the slippery sensation threw her slightly as it slowly slid around her outer lips. Her focus slipped for a moment as the soft vibration traced over a place that only her own hands had explored before.

She came back to herself sharply. She was supposed to be reading, not luxuriating. _Or at least,_ she told herself, _not yet_. She picked up her place again and kept reading. The entire interaction had been quick, no more than a second.

As she continued to read, her mysterious companion apparently decided to make up for lost time and started to stroke her more definitely, the buzzing now making its way up through her core and body in addition to through her ears.

She was aware of her skin prickling as a blush began to spread over her face. The book began to loom larger and larger in her field of view, all other objects getting smaller and smaller. She felt like she was beginning to fall into the book as that exquisite sensation began to make her entire body hum and vibrate in time with the toy. A toy, she decided, she was definitely going to purchase.

The next chapter swam into focus and she straightened up to follow the words more closely. She felt a tickle on her exposed shoulders and realised that she had unbraided her hair at some point during the previous page. This didn't bode well - if she was starting to lose track of things already...her scalp prickled and she shivered internally, slipping back to follow the path of that delicious tickling sensation.

Well. She needed to pull herself together. Show Oberyn and his lady friend that she wasn't going to just roll over. Not without a fight.

For a few moments, what was left of her mind mulled over that fact. Margie had said that it was a woman, but Oberyn....Oberyn had never mentioned who was under the table, but she supposed that it could be a guy. She'd had it in her head that it would be a woman to make things less awkward...but, really, she was being manipulated by an unseen person wielding a Hitachi vibrator. Someone who was up close and _very_ personal with her vagina, working Sansa inexorably to an orgasm on camera. "Less awkward" had kind of lost its meaning.

Although, she thought, it was probably a girl - either that or a guy who was deliciously skilled. Whoever it was they knew their way around a woman. Probably another woman. Neither of the guys with whom she'd been intimate had ever expressed the slightest enthusiasm for this.

Suddenly she was aware that the touch had gone, that her legs were still quivering but there was nothing to press against. Was that it? Was there some kind of time limit? She'd only read a few pages, but maybe that wa–

She shivered involuntarily as something silky soft brushed against her thighs. Not the Hitachi sleeve, which which she was getting so intimately acquainted, but...hair?

...A beard? _A guy..._

A gasp escaped her as she felt something warm and wet press against her nether lips. A kiss on the lips..a soft, gentle kiss. The pressure increased and then lessened, as the lips slid up...oh Gods, they...she clenched her hands into fists as those incredibly soft, warm lips slid carefully around the hood of her pulsing clit. _Oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods he’s gonna–_. 

A jagged bolt of lightning ripped through her entire body, curling her toes and making her taste the adrenaline in the back of her mouth as those marvellous lips gave way to a single hot breath that gently wafted against her, which was then replaced by an even hotter and gloriously slippery tongue. A tongue whose owner definitely knew what he was doing, as it carefully, glancingly, swiped once, twice, three times across her nub before flattening onto it for a few glorious seconds, making her world shake.

Then suddenly both lips and tongue were gone. Before she could look down, the buzzing sensation returned as the silicone tip caressed her inner thighs again, gently demanding her absolute attention.

She moved her hands to pick up the book again and tried desperately to focus on the page, but found the words already swimming in front of her.

She stumbled through a few more verses, but found it harder and harder to keep focussed. Trying to keep a clear enough head to read prose - she really shouldn't have chosen _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_ given its subject matter, but at the time she had thought it would be a suitably funny choice. But now all she could think of was her very own hairy bear who was cavorting under the table with her and who had actually tried to lick the honey from her hair...

All the while she had that amazing pressure and buzzing nestled against her, teasing her exposed clit, tracing her lips, probing her walls. Whenever she felt her orgasm start to get too close the pressure would maddeningly back off and trails of wetness be traced on her mound and inner thighs. The contrast to the cool leather glove that was clamped along her thigh was exquisite, heightening the sensation from what felt like all the nerve endings below her waist.

But try as her mystery puppeteer might to keep her from that blissful release, he couldn't stop her peak from slowly building up and up and up.

She was panting now, the book cast to one side. The dress was like a silken straitjacket, preventing her upper arms from moving away from where they pressed into the side of her chest, making her acutely aware of the strapless bra she had chosen to go with this outfit and the goosebumps that seemed to cover every square inch of her skin. Her forearms angled up, hands making grasping motions as she imagined running it through the hair of the guy under there.

No, not a guy, a MAN. A man who was gentle yet demanding, teasing but firm. Someone who knew (finally!!) what the fuck he was doing. Joffrey had never even entertained the notion that he could use his mouth on her...and Harry had always made a song and dance about it like she was asking him to French kiss a wart. And when he did begrudgingly go down on her he was _so shit_ at it.

All thoughts of Sir Wormalot and Fuckwit Hardyng flew from her mind and she shivered as the angle of her new favourite toy changed, the tip nestling just inside her as it pressed gently, yet firmly, against her soft front walls

_Oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods right there yes yes!_

Her arm moved wildly, knocking the book off the table. It fell to the floor unnoticed, the soft thud being drowned out by her panting as she sucked air in through her tightly clenched teeth, desperately trying to twist her pelvis away from her merciless tormentor.

But it was no good. Her unseen assailant maintained his grip on her thigh with one gloved hand, pinning her in place whilst the vibrator hummed its glorious song against her, the tingling in her pussy sending sparks throughout her entire body

"Ah!", she cried, startling herself with the sound. Her cry was absorbed into the room, drowned out by the thunderous sound of her blood through her ears. She bit down on her lip as she was pushed closer and closer. Her palms braced on the table now, pushing off as she raised her body off the chair, bouncing up and down as if she were actually riding the mystery man.

As the rhythm intensified, Sansa started to thrust up and down more forcefully, fingers digging into the table. Her thighs quivered as they strained to lift her away from the chair, only to slam down again and again and again, forced down by her overwhelming desire for more as much as that soft yet steely gloved hand.

Nothing else existed. No Oberyn, no camera, no book, no table, no dress...just her, her tormentor and this marvellous torture that he was subjecting her to. Her cunt spasmed around the head of the vibrator as it was aggressively thrust in, brushing against her fully exposed clit with such _desire_ and _demand_ that she knew she wasn't far off.

She could feel the pulse thrumming through her ears, throbbing through her clit and pounding through her fingertips as they grasped futilely for the head of the man under the table.

She could feel her climax building and building, like a giant wave growing ever higher as it loomed over her, ready to sweep down and wash her away. Nothing mattered, nothing existed except for that most delicious tension that was squirming throughout her body, like snakes that were just beneath her skin.

And then all the snakes bit her at once. The roaring in her ears drowned out everything as her vision went white and she came harder than she ever had before.

She came floating back to reality by degrees. Her hearing came back first, the harsh pants surprising her until she realised they were coming from her own throat. Next the sensation of her hands clamped almost painfully to the table, so much so that she was sure she'd left dents in it. 

Then her vision slowly faded in from the soothing white. The first thing she saw was that bloody red light of the camera, which brought everything crashing back.

And she had enough presence of mind to want to finish the job.

"Hi, I'm Sansa...and that was several verses from _Lore of Westeros_ by Osha and Bronn".

As she laid the book back down on the table, her eyes drifted to the black cloth that draped over the table and around her waist. She contemplated lifting the cloth and coming face to face with her unknown benefactor. She felt it was only fair - they'd already been lip to lip after all.

A heartbeat after the thought crossed her mind, however, Oberyn slid the door open, a broad smile on his face. "Well done! That was magnificent!"

Her gaze flitted up to him from the fabric. "Thank you, Oberyn. Was that what you wanted?"

He laughed now, a full belly laugh. "It was perfect." He reached the side of the chair and offered her his hand which she gratefully accepted. Rising on slightly wobbly legs, she let him gently usher her towards the changing room. She half-turned at the door and glanced back at him, but he smiled encouragingly to her.

"I imagine you’d like to freshen up first, but I'd like to talk about an opportunity in Essos that's coming up. Have you worked with the Golden Company before?"

Her eyes lit up. "The Golden Company?!?! But they don't work with newcomers..."

He smiled. "I have several friends in that troupe who owe me a favour. Besides, I didn't pick you just on Margaery's recommendation. Your portfolio speaks for itself and I think you're just what they're looking for."

Table forgotten, she all but flew into the small room, promising that she'd be out in an instant.

*******

Sansa looked up from where she lounged on the couch as she heard the key in the lock.

"Robb? Has your training been cancelled?"

But it wasn't her brother who came into the lounge room, but Jon Snow.

"Jon, h-hi", she stuttered, Margie's comment from _that_ lunch ringing in her ears as she took in the curly black hair and big grey eyes that crinkled as he looked at her.

"Hey, Sansa", he said softly. He was always so soft-spoken around her. She knew for a fact that he was louder with others like Robb and Arya, but with her he was always quiet. Almost shy, even.

_That just goes to show what Marg knows,_ she thought to herself with a sigh.

"Is Robb in?", he continued, causing her heart to sink slightly. Of course he wasn't here to see her, he was here to see her brother. She might have known.

"No, it's Tuesday - he's at training. You just missed him", she murmured, sinking back into the couch and picking up her book. "He'll be at least two hours, he said something about Jory driving them really hard this week before they take on the Western Lions."

"That's too bad."

She looked up. His words were at odds with their tone - he didn't look particularly put out. "You're welcome to stay until he comes back - are you hungry?"

"Well, I did miss dinner but don't worry, I’ll definitely get myself something to eat, thanks. Is that _Lore of Westeros_?"

"I didn't know you'd read it", she says, surprised. It's a far cry from his typical reading fare - not a gumshoe detective or a mountain man in sight. Jon Snow, a romantic? Stranger things have happ–

"Oh, I think its a real scream", Jon.... _purred._

Purred? Now she knew she was hearing things. Jon Snow didn't purr. Jon Snow was shy. Jon Snow barely spoke at a normal volume to her.

Jon Snow, she noticed, was running a hand over...his beard.

His.... _soft, close-trimmed_ beard.

Sansa couldn't look away as she watched his fingers slowly draw over his chin as he gazed at her.

His finger brushed his lower lip and she vaguely noticed him worrying it with his teeth. Suddenly she was aware of the hot flush on her face - the itching sensation as her scalp tightened, the burn on her cheeks and neck. Then her entire body tensed as she became aware of an answering burn from below. The heat spread out from her core in all directions, down her legs and up past her navel. Her entire body was aflame with an intensity that shocked her.

But that was nothing compared to the raging storm in those grey eyes of his as they bored into her slowly widening ones.

It was all she could do to focus on his next words as her disbelieving ears delivered them from that gorgeous mouth and _soft, warm lips._ Lips that were being slowly, _teasingly _swept over by his tongue.__

____

____

"In fact, I'd almost call it...hysterical."


End file.
